


The Dark Angel of Gotham

by raylordscello42



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Justice League - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe, Animal Abuse, Animal Death, Arkham Asylum Staff are Bad Doctors, Bad Parenting, Betrayal, Blood and Violence, Bribery, Don't Like Don't Read, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Evil Alfred Pennyworth, Evil Batman, Evil Bruce Wayne, Evil Catwoman, Feels, Gaslighting, Good Joker (DCU), Good Mad HAtter, Good Penguin, Good Poison Ivy, Good Scarecrow, Good two-face, Imperfect Superman, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Mind Games, Mind/Mood Altering Substances, Murder, Psychological Horror, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Psychological Warfare, Redneck Life Lessons, Technobabble, Temper Tantrums, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Threats of Violence, Violence, attempted cuckoldry, extremely bad parenting, good Harley quinn, good bane, good parenting, psychopathy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:00:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26328274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raylordscello42/pseuds/raylordscello42
Summary: What if Batman were not a good man? What would it be like were he in fact a psychopath and the people he puts away were the results of that?
Relationships: Batman/Catwoman, Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne
Kudos: 12





	1. The Day Everything Changed

**Author's Note:**

> I think I got everything tagged, but if you think I should add anything, please let me know in the comments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you think I missed tags please tell me and I'll add them. Also tell me how to add more tags to the ones I already have.

"I want to see The Phantom of the Opera again, Dad!" The shrill voice of a young boy rang out. "I want to go again! Mommy! Pleeeease! I'm going to run away if we don't go see it again! I'll...I'll keep screaming. I'll say you kidnapped me if we don't." Thomas Wayne thought himself a patient man, but Bruce's yelling and and fake crying was really starting to get on his nerves.  
"Oh, let's go see it again, dear. It's okay, sweetheart. We'll go and see it again. Your father is just tired today. Please don't start a fight, baby. It'll be okay, see? We're going back to the theatre right now." Martha sent a pleading look at Thomas, begging him to acquiesce. He rolled his eyes and took out his phone, Alfred's number ready.  
"Looks like we're heading back to the theatre, Al. Could you bring the car around to the front." Thomas didn't say anything to Martha because Bruce would throw another tantrum but they we not going back in that stuffy theatre. When Alfred brought the car around, he was going to shove the little brat in the car and they were going home. He turned to head back through the alleyway so that they could get back to the theatre they had left nearly twenty minutes before. They had taken only a few short steps when a man wearing a hood stepped around the corner with a gun drawn.  
"Give me the pearls lady, and your wallet, mister, or I shoot you and the kid dead." His voice rumbled as his hands shook. Martha had started to remove her necklace when Bruce screamed in terror.  
"HELP. HELP US. HE HAS A GUN!"  
"Kid, if you don't shut up-"  
"POLICE, PLEASE SOMEONE!" Martha moved to get her son behind her and a loud bang suddenly echoed down the alley. Time seemed to slow as she fell to the ground, pearls and horrified face now splattered in blood. Thomas yelled and lunged at the gunman while Bruce screamed, now in actual fear. A second shot rang out and Thomas collapsed over the body of his wife. Bruce stopped screaming as he dropped to his knees, now sobbing.  
"Why...you killed them...Momma! Dad! Wake up! Please wake up! Why!?" The gunman's hands shook as he pointed the gun at the sobbing child's face. His finger tightened on the trigger but as he looked at the face of young Bruce Wayne, sobbing and shaking with fear, he lowered the gun. He couldn't shoot a child. He wouldn't shoot a child. He dropped the gun and ran. Ran as fast as he could from the chilling sound of sobs that sounded eerily similar to laughs. He ran far enough that when the sirens came and surrounded the alley with the cooling bodies of Mr. and Mrs. Wayne, he wouldn't see the look of pure rage that crossed the crying child's face before cooling back into the mask of a distraught child. 

In Hermiston, Oregon, on a small farm.  
Clark Kent was daydreaming. Well, not really, he was thinking about the four month old little calf he helped take care of. He remembered how when it was born, it was all gangly limbs and soulful eyes and bleating cries. He remembered how it trusted him and would only let him or Ma or Mr. Amstead bottle feed it. He decided to take it for a walk around the farm so that it was more okay when it got made into veal at the end of the week. He stopped walking because he couldn't stop thinking about how much he would miss it. He stared at the calf's soulful brown eyes and felt his eyes start to burn. Next came the smell of cooking meat and burning hair. He blinked and the calf was on the ground bleeding from a half cauterized wound on the neck, weakly bleating and struggling to move.  
"OHMYGOD! PA! PA! HELP ME SHE'S DYING!!" He continued to yell for Pa to come and help him while he put pressure on the calf's neck, trying to staunch the bleeding,but the gaping would was gushing blood too fast. His Pa came running, a furious and scared expression on his face.  
"What the hell did you do, boy!?" Pa thundered. The calf stopped moving, to weak to continue its struggle. Clark sat back on his heels and looked at his hands, now thoroughly covered in the calf's blood, then looked at his Pa.  
"I..I killed her...I don't know how it happened, but it's my fault and I...I'm so sorry, Pa." Clark felt tears running down his face and looked down at the little calf, feeling sick and like there was a hole in his stomach. Pa's expression softened.  
"Help me carry her, Clark." Clark did as Pa said, his arms straining under the weight. Together, they made their way towards the slaughterhouse.  
"Wash your hands off for now, kiddo. I'm going to teach you how to slaughter a calf." Clark nodded sadly and washed his hands before wiping his face clean of tears and then wiping his hands on his jeans. The entire time while the calf was being butchered, Pa explained why they did it a certain way and how each piece would be used. It took the most of the day, but Clark paid attention to everything he was shown and was probably a bit more careful than needed, but he wanted to be safe rather than sorry.  
"Now, you take some of this meat and you put it on that tray and go take it to your Ma. We're having some of this for dinner tonight. I'll take the rest and put in the smoke house. Hell we might take some of this to the fair. " Clark's face briefly crumpled before doing what Pa said. When he got to the house, his Ma looked at him and took the tray.  
"Well? What are you waiting for kid? You're helping. Wash up." He hurried to wash the blood and viscera off his hands and rushed into the kitchen to help Ma make dinner. They made veal stew with almost too many potatoes in Clark's opinion, but as Ma said, no such thing. They made enough to feed everyone who worked on the farm, using Ma's largest stew pot, and it was almost done when Pa came back from the smoke house.  
"Now that smells amazing. How's about we get the rest of the boys in here and get some hungry bellies fed? Clark, you go ring the dinner bell."  
After dinner, Clark nervously asked if he was in trouble. Pa wiped his face with a napkin, finished chewing his food and took a drink of his apple cider. Then he looked at Clark.  
"You did mess up. But you've already paid for it enough today and your Ma and I don't feel you need more punishment, 'specially 'cause you fessed up. So son, you ever gonna do that again?" At Clark's frantic shaking his head, he continued. " 'Sides, you only killed it a week early. " Clark went to bed that night with a full belly and tears in his eyes. He thought of sweet little Annabelle and her soulful brown eyes. He thought of how sweet she was when she followed him and Mr. Amstead and chewed their sleeves for their attention. He knew he had paid heavily for his mistake. That year, the jerky made from sweet Annabelle won Clark a blue ribbon at the local fair. It still sits on his shelf today.


	2. The Death of Ace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Animal abuse and torture. A dog dies. You might hate me. Bruce learns how to torture people and animals.

Ace loved his boy. His boy and his family were always sweet to him and gave him lots of belly rubs. Even when his boy was a little mean to him, he always fixed it and smelt wrong when Ace was hurt so Ace always forgave him and licked away his wrong smelling tears. Master Fancy suit, however, he scared Ace. He never smelt right to Ace, always faintly of blood and foul smelling cleaning products. The day that the pretty mistress and the gentle lord did not return home, Ace was filled with fear and worry. His boy did not smell sad, rather he smelled happy and of rage. This made no sense to Ace. Where was the pretty mistress and the gentle lord? Were they not coming back? Were they okay? Ace whined in concern, but master fancy suit made the gesture that meant follow and what else could Ace do but obey? He followed master fancy suit and his boy to the backyard, overlooking the bay, and sat next to his little house. He usually liked his little house, but it was early in the spooky month and it got very cold after dark even with his warm, soft blanket. Master fancy suit took a chain and attached it to Ace's collar.  
"Stay here, mutt." Ace flinched. he did not know what he had done to anger master fancy suit, but his voice shook with deliberate rage. His boy and master fancy suit walked out of where Ace could hear them and started talking, frequently glancing his way. Ace was scared. he did not know what made him a bad boy. he thought he had been a very good boy. He did not piddle on the carpet or the sofa. He did not chase the squirrels, cheeky bastards they were earlier. He even did not bark at the mail man once. Ace did not understand what he done, but he knew he must have been bad, or he wouldn't be in his little house after dark. His boy and master fancy suit walked into the house and came back a few minutes later with a knife in their hands.  
Oh...Ace understood what was happening now. He was being punished for upsetting his boy...But he was more than scared, because this time it wasn't just his boy who would punish him.  
"Now Bruce, pay attention." Master fancy suit knelt in front of Ace, who tried to stay still and not shake and run away. He knew that if he did, he would be punished worse, but he couldn't stop trembling. Master fancy suit was almost gentle when he brought the knife to Ace's side and drew it across his left shoulder. Ace was so scared, he did not feel the pain, but he felt the blood drip down and soak his fur. He looked at his boy desperately but his face was impassive while his eyes shined with glee. Master fancy suit made many more small cuts along Ace's shaking body before turning to Bruce.  
"Bruce, look at the fear on his face. You see how scared he is?" Alfred's voice was calm and clinical, different from earlier when his voice shook with barely contained rage. The calm tone made Ace flinch and shake even worse. master fancy suit, no master Alfred, stepped away from Ace and motioned for his boy to take his place. Ace was so scared that in a desperate bid for forgiveness, he rolled over onto his back, not caring about the dirt getting into his bloody wounds. He whined quietly, begging for his boy to save him from master Alfred. His boy cocked his head to one side, in a similar motion he had seen the small red chested birds do. Ace closed his eyes. He understood...His boy would not save him. His boy knelt, the dirt getting all over his nice pants. He felt his boy lean in closer but did not open his eyes. He felt the cool metal of the knife in his boy's hand against his throat. He opened his eyes. He was still scared, but his boy pressed in gently, his eyes filled with sadistic glee, dragging the knife across Ace's exposed neck. He stared at his boy in sadness and in gratitude, because his boy might have not saved him but he granted his last wish. His boy set him free.  
Ace closed his eyes and breathed his last. Ace loved his boy. 

"Do you want to wield that kind of power over others, Master Bruce?" At Bruce's eager nodding, he continued. "Then you must learn what fear is yourself." Bruce looked confused. "Follow me, Master Bruce." Bruce pattered behind him, not understanding what Alfred was talking about. He followed Alfred into the gardens to an old well covered in boards and overgrown with moss and vines.  
"Help me move some of this." Unlike with his father, Alfred was one of the only people he wouldn't dare disobey and the certainly the only one he respected. As soon as the well was cleaned off, Bruce turned to Alfred.  
"What's going o-AAAAAAAAA!" Bruce screamed in surprise when Alfred shoved him into the well. He fell about twenty feet and startled awake hundreds of bats. They flew at him, surrounding him and nipped at him and pulled on his hair. Then they flew up and out of the well in a cloud of startled and slightly frightened creatures, headed towards down town Gotham.  
"Come on, Master Bruce, we both know you can find your way out. If takes you all night, I'm not making dinner. Now, get up!" Bruce stood up on shaking legs and wiped his face. He knew Alfred would do as he says. He started making his way deeper into the cave. He scraped his hands and whacked his head a few times, but he came to a large open cavern. There was about a hundred feet of solid ground from where he stood before it dropped off into a deep mini canyon.  
"Holy shit!" Bruce yelled when he saw how deep the canyon was. However, his yelling and the echoes of his yelling woke up more bats and the swarmed around his like the first group did. He backed away from the ledge as quickly as possible and tripped over a rock. The bats got close to him but he did not yell this time. He stayed quiet and still and the bats lost interest and began to fly towards the entrance he came in. He stood up and stared at the ceiling. A grin slowly came over his face. He knew what he would do now.  
"I will use fear as my means of cleansing this god forsaken city. I will tear it apart and rebuild it better and they will revere me. I will own this city and shape it how I see fit. I am...vengeance. I am...the night. I am...the Dark Angel of Gotham. I...AM...BATMAN!!"  
He made his way back slowly to where Alfred shoved him into the cave system. He started to climb back up. He went slowly but there were plenty of layers of jutting rock he could grab on to and step on. He climbed out of the well, dirty and sweaty, but grinning.  
He looked at Alfred, his eyebrows raised and expectant.  
"I'm gonna rule this city." Alfred nodded, seemingly pleased.  
"Well then, Master Bruce, we had better get started." With that they turned around and walked off. Bruce started.  
"Hold on, Alfred. I gotta do something." He ran back to the backyard and went to the cooling body of Ace. He unlatched Ace's bloodstained collar and clutched it in his fist, a proud grin on his face. Then he ran back into the house where Alfred was making something that smelled incredible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry.


	3. The Fall Of the King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Crane endeavours to help a young, seemingly traumatized Bruce Wayne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> longest chapter yet.

Bruce Wayne stalked into Dr. Crane's Oz themed office with his hands in his pockets and a surly expression on his face. He didn't want to be here. He wasn't weak. He didn't need a shrink to tell him how to live his life. Even if he had managed to convince Alfred to hold off on this for about a month, he had to "talk it out" with a therapist to save face. What a load of crap. 

"Ah, Mr. Wayne-"Dr. Crane started with a smile on his face.

"Bruce...Call me Bruce. Mr. Wayne is-was my father." He adopted a sad expression and looked at his shoes, his hair falling to shield his eyes. 

"Well, you could go that way." At Bruce's confused look, he continued with a gesture. "Or you could go this way." Bruce's brows furrowed even more. "Of course, some people do go both ways." Bruce looked at him like he was insane. Seeing this, Dr. Crane tried to steer the conversation away from Bruce's false melancholy. "Why don't you tell me something about your parents that you love. Something that makes you happy?" Bruce pretended to think for a moment and started to spout a clearly rehearsed little thing, complete with appropriately timed shuddering breaths and stutters, about how his father was a great man, strong and brilliant, and his mother was a sweet woman who would never hurt even a fly. 

Dr. Crane continued with attempting to get Bruce to actually speak something that wasn't rehearsed or about how much he "missed his parents," but with no success. He nodded decisively.

"Well, it seems like Scarecrow ain't doin' too much talking. So, how's about I leave this here and go and grab some snacks for the two of us, yeah?" He got up and got the stuffed scarecrow doll from his desk and placed it in his chair while he went outside and talked to one of the officers acting as the building's security.

"Officer, something about that boy isn't right. He hasn't said anything in there that wasn't rehearsed or a bald faced lie. The boy doesn't cry, hell, he doesn't even appear to be grieving! If I didn't know better, I would say that boy is downright gleeful 'bout their deaths." He took a deep breath before continuing. "Frankly, officer, that boy exhibits the traits of a psychopath, and I'm worried about the safety of himself and others should this be allowed to continue. He...I hate to say this, officer, 'specially about a child his age, but that boy needs to be in a mental ward, because he needs more help than I could ever give him if he's going to grow to be a good man." Dr. Crane ran his hand down his face, hating that he had to do this, but that boy...that boy was not okay.

Three months later, at the Gotham Courthouse

Nervously, he adjusted his tie and fixed his hair for the third time in twenty minutes. The charges on which he was here were a load of garbage. He had done his job and tried to stop a psychopath in the making, and what did he get? This. Ms. Amanda Waller. Bruce Wayne's lawyer. She had charged into his office with two burly officers behind her and slammed down his arrest warrant. 

"Dr. Jonathan Crane, you are under arrest for slander, defamation of character, and child endangerment. Please come quietly," the officer to her left said, looking like he hoped Jonathan would try to fight so that he could add assaulting an officer of the law and resisting arrest. Dr. Crane had stood up quietly and had let them put handcuffs around his wrists, a confused and almost wounded look on his face. As he had sat in his cell at the station, he had thought about the case that had made him who he was today. Dorothea Montoya, petrified of dogs. 

Dorothea Montoya came into his office with her hair in pigtails, clutching a stuffed scarecrow with a crown around its hat. Dr. Crane smiled at her and motioned for her to sit down.

"Ms. Montoya and, oh, who's this?" He looked at the doll in her arms.

"This is Mr. Scarecrow. He doesn't have a brain." You could almost see the light bulb go off above Dr. Crane's head as he reached forward, and shook the doll's hand. "How do ya do, Mr. Scarecrow." Montoya giggled quietly. 

"I know you don't like certain animals. Do you think you could tell me why?" At Montoya's scared head shake, he nodded and tried to phrase it better.

"Pretend I'm Mr. Scarecrow, okay? Mr. Scarecrow doesn't understand things, so you have to explain things to him so Mr. Scarecrow doesn't get hurt." Montoya looked alarmed for a second but then slowly nodded.

"I don't like-don't like dogs. Be-because they're big and scary and always try to bite me and chase me." Dr. Crane got an idea. He hoped it would work.

"I'll be right back, okay, Ms. Montoya? Just stay right here."

Montoya nodded and sat in her chair, running her fingers gently through Mr. Scarecrow's yarn hair. Dr. Crane walked back in and set something small and squirmy on the carpet. Montoya looked at it curiously before freezing, her eyes going wide and fearful.

"Now, don't look at him, okay? Look at me." She slowly drew her eyes away from the tiny puppy on the ground and looked at Dr. Crane with an uncertain look on her face. "Very good. Now do you think you could come over here?" she quickly shook her head. "Don't look at him, look at me. Okay? Good, now I won't let anything hurt you, alright? Do you think you can come over here?" She hesitantly stood up and took very small steps towards Dr. Crane, glancing at the puppy and then back to Dr. Crane.

"Sit down with me, okay?" When she did, he picked up the puppy. "He can't hurt you. He's small and has no teeth and is still blind. He's the smallest one in the litter and I won't let anything happen to you...or to Mr. Scarecrow." He smiled reassuringly at her. "Go ahead, it's okay."

She looked at him and then at the puppy, shakily reaching out a hand to poke the puppy. The puppy sneezed.

"Bless you." She said without thinking then flushed. She looked at Dr. Crane again.

You're doing great. I'm here."

She reached out again and just held her hand in front of the puppy's face letting him smell her. The puppy licked her hand and she giggled.

"That tickles...You know for a dog, you're okay little dude." She smiled at the puppy and let him smell Mr. Scarecrow. He sneezed again.

"What...what kind of dog is he?"

"He's a mix. Bloodhound and German Shepard. He's going to grow up to be a sniffer dog."

Montoya nodded. " I...I kind of like him...I still don't like dogs in general, but this little guy's okay."

"That's completely fine. You don't have to like dogs. I wouldn't expect you to if this is your only good experience with one." Montoya nodded again. 

"Does...does he have a name?" Dr. Crane shook his head, but then asked,"Would you like to name him?"

"Can I?" He nodded. Montoya looked at the puppy and his little paws. "Your name is...Beans." She looked very proud of herself. 

"Beans?"

"Lookit. He has little toes beans, so...Beans."

"A good name, then." 


	4. The Trial of Scarecrow

The trial was a farce. Wayne had character witnesses for miles while Dr. Crane had the one. He was being falsely accused and his attorney was an idiot who didn't want to do his job and kept pushing for an insanity plea. Witness after witness got called up, all saying how Wayne was a sweet boy, a little broody sometimes, but what else would you expect from a traumatized eight year old? His attorney said that at this rate, the best he could hope for was an insanity plea or some divine miracle.

"I call Officer Dorothea Montoya to the stand," his attorney's droll voice sounded out. Dr. Crane started. She walked up with a large mixed breed dog. He didn't know that it was Dorothea who was the sole person willing to attest to his character. The attorney asked the standard questions about what type of person Dr. Crane was and Dorothea told him a story. A story about how when she was five, nearly twenty years ago, Dr. Crane had helped her get over her crippling fear of dogs by bringing in the tiniest puppy she had ever seen. She finished by saying that without Dr. Crane, she would never have become the woman she is today and ruffled her dog's ears.

"This guy right here is Beans Senior's puppy. His name is Beans II, Master Destroyer of Shoes Everywhere. At this, snickers could be heard throughout the court, some being poorly disguised as coughs. Dorothea had a proud look on her face. Ms. Waller came up looking smug, a sheaf of papers in her hands. She then proceeded to ask a series of rapid fire questions in an attempt to fluster Dorothea. Throughout the entire process, she kept her cool and answered the questions to the best of her ability. Dr. Crane zoned out again during the cross examination and thought to himself 'Maybe I should just take the insanity plea, after all.'

"Thank you Officer Montoya. No more questions." Ms. Waller took her seat next to Wayne. The judge pretended to look over the presented accounts for the next few minutes before calling the court to order.

"The court finds that due to Dr. Crane having no previous incursions and an exemplary record as a child psychologist, he will be escorted to Arkham Asylum, where he will remain until no further sign of stress induced mental breakdowns occur and he is ready to rejoin Gotham as a functioning member of society. This court is adjourned." Dr. Crane wilted at that, but was honestly just glad that they had let him keep his licence. Wayne shot a smug look at Dr. Crane as two officers came in and put him in cuffs "for his own safety," they said. 

The drive to Arkham was quiet and the cuffs around his ankles chafed more every time there was a bump in the road. Dr. Crane was nervously picking at his nails the entire time. Everyone in Gotham knew the rumours floating around about Arkham Asylum. How the doctors experimented on the patients and treated the more "violent" ones as handy punching bags, but the place always passed it's investigations. It could just be that these were started by former patients of the asylum, but that was very unlikely, seeing as there were no "former patients." As the vehicle pulled up to the gates and Dr. Crane got his first real look at it, he couldn't deny that the place had a certain type of beauty about it. The kind that said,"Run. Run away and never return."

He shook his head. That kind of thinking would get him nowhere. Surely, the rumours exaggerated. After all, they wouldn't be one of the most successful mental institutions if horrible things like that actually happened. His brain was just coming up with unsavoury scenarios to justify his inane fear of a admittedly rather beautiful set of buildings.


	5. Meeting Lex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark makes a new friend

Clark stared at the boy in front of him in bewilderment.The rain was coming down like nobodies business but he wasn't wearing a raincoat or shoes. His curly hair plastered to his face with a wide grin to accompany it. In his hands was both the calmest and most annoyed frog Clark had ever seen. 

"Dude. I found more of these guys if you wanna see." The boy knelt down and opened his hands, allowing the frog to hop away in an almost huffy manner.

"Where's your raincoat? And your shoes? You're gonna get sick." Clark said, shaking out of his musing.

"Pssshhh. A little rain never hurt nobody. You coming with? Or are you scared?" Ah, the magic words. 

"I'm not scared!" 

"Come on then. There's a whole lot of 'em nearby, they like the rain." With that the boy turned around walking carefully so as not to step on any small animals. Clark pattered after him, his raincoat hood falling to his shoulders. He thought about putting it back up but they were under a lot of trees so there was a little less rain.

"Shhhhh! Be quiet. There's fish!"The boy pointed to the small river where indeed there were small child's hand sized fish. Clark grinned, an idea springing into his head.

"Bet I can catch more of 'em than you."

"You're on, buddy, but you gotta take off your boots." Clark pouted for a second but did take off his boots. The boy had led him to the riverbed, so he got to make the rules. Clark and the boy waded into the water, their view being distorted by the falling rain. They scanned the water when out nowhere a fish came up and splashed them both. 

"What was that for?" They both yelled with indigence. 

"It wasn't me! Yes it was! Stop copying me!" Splash! 

The boy blinked. Slowly, a wicked grin came over his face.

"Oh, that's how it is? Fine. Just remember short stuff, you started it." The boy splashed Clark, thoroughly soaking his pants. Clark splashed him back, laughing, "Loser falls first!" They splashed at each other for a while, before Clark fell on his butt a giggly, completely drenched mess.

"Oh, I forgot earlier. My name's Clark. What's yours?"

"Alexi, but call me Lex. Good to meet you, buddy." They grinned at each other for a second before Clark realised that he was supposed to get home a few minutes ago and Ma was probably worried. He jumped up and grabbed his boots, yelling behind him,"I gotta go! I'm sorry! It was nice meeting you Lex!"

"Bye!" Lex smiled to himself and thought "What a weird dude." He sat and leaned back, just listening to the sound of the rain on the leaves for a while before getting up and continuing to look for frogs and bugs.


	6. One Bad Day Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you know, you know. Also I'm sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When you see ~blahblahblah~ supposed to be italicised but i can't figure out how so as sarcastically and/or disdainfully as possible.

John couldn't tell if the wetness on his face was from tears or the rain. He stared, horrified at the rapidly cooling body of his wife, grief overwhelming him, the rain spreading the bloodstain on his formerly pale blue suit, turning it the colour of a bruised plum. He barely noticed as the cops shoved him in the back of their cruiser. He looked out the window, his grief stricken face staring back at him. To think this day started out so wonderfully.

...Earlier...

The pool of hot chocolate on the table was quickly spreading and if not taken care of soon, would make a mess of the floor as well. John didn't notice, too shocked by what his wife had just said. He shook his head and blinked a few times.

"I'm I'm sorry. B-but could you please repeat that, dear?" She grinned, happy tears in her eyes.

"We're having a baby!" John looked dumbstruck for a moment, before a grin spread over his face. He stood and went around the table, sweeping his wife into a hug and spinning her around. "We're gonna be parents!" He whooped, his wife laughing.

Still giggling, she kissed him on the forehead and said" John, you have to go to work." He looked at her with a mock betrayed look and pouted for a minute, before he shook his head and grabbed his coat from the back of his chair.

As he walked out the door, a dopey grin on his face, he turned around and looked at his wife. "You know I love you, right?"

Grinning, she said, "I love you too, now get going, ya goof." He turned and closed the door, whistling a happy tune as he rode the bus to work.

**At work**

John didn't know exactly what was going on when he got to his desk, but his black lab coat had a new fluorescent stain on the shoulders. He quickly grabbed his gloves, took his lab coat and went to check the chem wall. There were two main rules in his little corner of Wayne Inc. Rule number one:black lab coats are mandatory. Spares are next to the chem wall. This is explained by rule number 2. Rule number 2: all chemicals in the chem labs must be dyed with a fluorescent dye that doesn't interfere with the chemical compound. This is because non dyed chemicals do not show up on white lab coats. 

His lab coat had the brightest, most eyesore shade of green and checking against the wall, it was the new experimental anaesthesia. At least, everybody had been told it was an anaesthesia. It wasn't exactly a lie, but it most certainly wasn't the truth either. See, it was more akin to something designed for torture. The drug worked by intercepting the brain's signals to the body and telling it to completely relax. What happens in reality, is the body ends up flooding with adrenaline in response because the heart rate slowing too fast and causes muscle spasms and uncontrollable laughing that vary in severity depending on the dosage. High enough doses could even result in death. However, the dose put in the workers' coffee is just enough to make their hands and feet shake as if they had nerve damage and cause them to giggle like schoolgirls whenever Mr. Wayne fancies he's funny. John wasn't completely sold on it, but his job was more important that asking questions. 

He threw his coat into the washer and grabbed a spare before heading back to his desk to work on his part of making the "anaesthesia" less dangerous and more effective. Right as he had started getting some actual work done, who should arrive but the last man you would want in the labs, Mr. Bruce Wayne. A mere sixteen years old, and already the public face of Wayne Inc. What a joke, the boy didn't know a damn thing about keeping a company running, so instead, Mr. Fox took care of everything and Mr. Fox was worse than Wayne, in that he let the boy do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, consequences be damned. 

As soon as John saw ~Mr. Wayne's~ smug face and perfectly coiffed hair, he knew no more work was going to get done today. He just hoped that whatever Mr. Wayne wanted, it would be easy to deal with. Looking back, he shouldn't have jinxed it.


End file.
